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“What’re you doing?” Steve asks. Bucky knew he was coming, could hear his footsteps as he approached, the crunch of snow beneath his feet. He tells himself it’s just because Steve’s bigger now, noisier, but Steve was a noisy fucker even when he was small. Maybe being a sniper has made his senses better — that would be a reasonable explanation, even if he knows in his heart of hearts that the unreasonable explanation is the true one.
“Just looking,” Bucky says. He’s laying on a snowy patch outside of their camp while the rest of the Howlies sit around the fire, smoking and swapping stories with each other. They’ve got a big mission tomorrow, catching Armin Zola once and for all, so they’re all trying to blow off a little steam. Even though he appreciates the rest of the group, he didn’t feel like staying with them tonight. There’s something in the cold air that makes him pause, makes him want to take stock of things, of himself, the universe. So he decided to take some time and look at the skies.
“Can I look with you?” Steve asks, sitting down beside him. Asshole. He knows Bucky can’t say no.
So Bucky says, “No,” just to try. Steve laughs, settling in closer to Bucky’s side than he probably should. It’s cold enough that they could say they’re huddling together for warmth, but that’s a weak defense. “Look at all these stars,” he says. “Don’t see these back home.”
“No, you don’t,” Steve says, though his head is still turned to face Bucky. He hasn’t even looked up at the sky. Bucky can’t imagine how cold the snow must feel on his cheek; though, Steve runs hotter now. It probably doesn’t matter. Bucky doesn’t feel that cold, either.
Bucky doesn’t call him on it, just tries to memorize the patterns of the heavens as Steve’s hand reaches down to intertwine his fingers with Bucky’s. “Steve,” he says, a warning. While it feels like they’re the only people in the world, the Howlies are nearby and the Nazis aren’t much farther.
“They’re all busy,” Steve says. “Dum Dum dug up a bottle of whisky somewhere and Gabe’s telling one of his stories. No one will bother us.”
“I don’t wanna get Captain America dishonorably discharged,” Bucky mutters, though it feels good to have Steve’s hand in his again. It brings him back to all of those lingering touches, the stolen glances. He’s barely had a moment alone with Steve since Azzano and in some ways that’s been a blessing — he can’t think about how this new Steve doesn’t fit back into his old life when he’s busy shooting Nazis in the head.
Or, at least he can tell himself that.
“We’re used to staying quiet,” Steve says. “I’ve missed you.”
“Jesus.” He tries to remember the name of the constellation he’s looking at but it’s stuck at the back of his brain; he can’t bring it out.
“I have. I thought you were dead.” His voice cracks but Bucky doesn’t look over. He just can’t. “I love you, you know that, right?” Steve’s voice is barely a whisper but still so fucking full. He can wreck Bucky with his voice alone.
Bucky takes a deep breath; he wishes he had a cigarette, something to do with his hands that isn’t feeling Steve’s thumb rubbing on his knuckles. It’s almost too much. “You ever think about what’s going on up there?”
“What?” Steve asks, obviously a little miffed that Bucky’s changing the subject. Good. Someone’s gotta slow down the train Steve’s been on lately.
“Worlds, y’know? Far away from here. Like in the movies.”
“All those books you dragged home from the library.”
“Those, too.”
“A place for us,” Steve says. “Somewhere in the universe. Maybe on Mars.” He laughs, like it’s some kind of ridiculous notion. But there has to be somewhere for them other than Hell. There has to be a reason to keep living.
“A place for us,” Bucky echoes back, scooting in closer for just a moment, letting himself feel Steve, even if he still can’t bring himself to look. And then he pulls away because he can hear Jim on his way.
He wishes he couldn’t.
— —
“This is…”
Steve wraps himself around Bucky from the back, presses his face to Bucky’s neck for a long moment. His arms are tight around Bucky’s chest, pulling him in close. “Kallu. Mostly frozen,” he scoffs.
“It’s beautiful,” Bucky says, watching the planet grow bigger from the window of Quill’s ship. He’s seen a dozen planets now, each more incredible than the last. This planet, Kallu, looms bright and white. Just looking at the snow-capped mountains nearly makes him shiver. Bucky doesn’t want to look away, even though the thought of ice scares him still, reminds him of too many years spent in a nightmare. It helps having Steve next to him, keeping him close and warm.
“Just making a quick stop for supplies.” Steve kisses his neck. “There’s no need to be impressed; it’s basically uninhabited. There are far more interesting planets in this system.”
“You should look,” Bucky urges. Steve never looks, but that doesn’t mean he can’t try.
“I’ve seen it all before.”
“You’ve seen me before.” And yet he keeps looking. God, he keeps looking. He can feel those bright eyes looking at him now, taking in every part of Bucky with Steve’s usual hunger.
He can feel Steve’s lips curl into a smile next to his neck. “I want to memorize every curve of you.”
Bucky shuts his eyes for just a moment, letting himself feel Steve’s body against him. Steve moves his hands, letting them rest on either side of Bucky’s hips. He squeezes, just shy of too hard. They stay like that for a few long moments, the muffled sounds of Quill’s music playing drifting in from the other side of the ship. When he opens his eyes again, the planet is closer and brighter, its blinding whiteness nearly hurting his eyes.
“There’s a place for us somewhere,” Bucky says quietly as they approach the planet’s atmosphere.
“My place is next to you,” Steve says, his voice fierce before softening. “But when we’re done, we’ll find a place to rest.”
He can hear Gamora approach them from behind, but neither of them move. They don’t have to. It’s a different world now.